


Coffee Hipster

by Cathevera



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Royal Boyfriends, Thorin Is Not Amused, Thranduil is a coffee nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathevera/pseuds/Cathevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin fetches his boyfriend's coffee. His boyfriend is a bit of a prat, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Hipster

**Author's Note:**

> A oneshot I wrote some time ago. Figured it was worth posting. Happy reading!

Thorin Oakenshield was many things: a dwarf, the CEO at Ark & Stone company, and boyfriend to potentially the most pretentious coffee hipster to ever grace the local Starbucks. It was only by sheer force of will, and what had to be undying love for his significant other, that he crossed the threshold and walked into the establishment.

Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't particularly busy. A few teenagers in knitted caps and woolen scarves - in July - intensely browsing the internet while enjoying their lattés, the odd couple sharing a coffee at a secluded table in the corner, and a suit-clad businessman on the go who opted for Starbucks coffee, rather than the piss-poor drivel undoubtedly served in his office.  
Thorin proceeded to the counter, smartphone in hand to check his beloved's order for the umpteenth time.

_Get me a grande extra hot soy with extra foam, split shot with a half squirt of sugar-free vanilla and a half squirt of sugar-free cinnamon, a half packet of splenda, in a venti cup and fill up the "room" with extra whipped cream with caramel and chocolate sauce drizzled on top._

Thorin was thoroughly convinced that Thranduil had instructed him to order this Beverage from the Seventh Circle of Hell just to spite him for working late the other night. There was simply no way he could be entirely serious about his order - he even had the secret suspicion that it probably tasted awful. Nevertheless, he waited for the barista to finish her previous order before he cited his own as though he had rehearsed it fifty times on the way there. Which, in truth, he had.

The barista barely managed to hide her annoyance with him as she reached for a sharpie pen. "And what name can I write on here?"

"Thranduil," came the reply. The barista stared at him for a long moment, and it took Thorin an even longer one to realise that she was waiting for him to spell it out. "That's T-H-R-... A-N-D.. U-I-L. Thranduil." Just as pretentious as the coffee he'd just ordered, a thought he saw reflected on the barista's face who went about processing his order. Though he saw a hint of sympathy directed his way when the barista realised that it wasn't a dwarf's name, and therefore not his coffee. A fool's errand, then, and he probably cared a great deal for the elf the coffee was for.

Thorin waited for the cup to be delivered to him as he considered his revenge. He eyed the stand with different sweeteners and the like. Maybe he could mix half a pound of sugar into the coffee without telling Thranduil, then watch him squirm as he tries to get it down in a dignified way, because the elf would be damned to spit out ten dollars worth of coffee - if at all. Grinning to himself all the way back to their apartment, or _penthouse_ , as Thranduil so loved to point out, he wondered just how badly the look on his lover's face could have been. It'd served him right, anyway - how dare he make Thorin Oakenshield the laughingstock of the local coffee bar.

He walked into their home and hung up his coat, quietly making his way into the living room. He couldn't help himself as he stopped in the doorway to observe his One. Slumped in a chair with his legs swung over the armrest, fingers tapping rapidly across the keys of his laptop. Working tirelessly, without a doubt fuelled by the very coffee Thorin held in his hands. Dressed in his posh tailored clothes - dress pants, silken dress shirt, even his shoes were Italian made and authentic. The only break in this image of perfection was the elf's platinum hair, combed but otherwise hanging loosely over his back and shoulders. Thorin observed the gaunt face that held the snowy blue eyes he loved so much, closed off and concentrated as Thranduil stared at the screen in his lap. Silent steps led Thorin to the figure in the chair, where he stopped and bent to kiss the man's head as he gave him the coffee.

"Your order." Whispered the dwarf, already making his way back to his own office to continue whatever work of his own he had left behind. Before he could turn, however, Thranduil wrapped a slender hand around his wrist, pulling him back to his side. Thranduil wasn't prone to being sentimental when he was in work-mode, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Thank you," he said. "Maybe now I can finish this quickly, and we might spend some time together..." The question was quiet on his tongue, but Thorin understood. Both of them had been busy managing their respective companies. Being a "powercouple", as others so frequently put it, was a restless job to say the least, and they rarely had time to spend as a couple, let alone go out. Thorin kissed his hand in a quiet promise, then left for his office. However pretentious a prat his love might be, Thorin appreciated him for all his worth.

As always, sleep came late for the two of them, but Thranduil was especially restless tonight. He tossed and turned, sighed and eventually turned to face Thorin, who had been awake and staring at the figure next to him with an amused look on his face. Clearly, the coffee he'd had mere hours earlier had left his lover restless and unable to sleep - Thorin took solace in the fact that the ridiculous brew had served justice after all.

Still, he felt bad and he decided against lying in  bed while his beloved thrashed about in a fit of useless waking. He sat up and pulled the tired form of Thranduil against himself. Although confused, the elf remained quiet and settled against the dwarf's chest. As soon as they were both comfortable, Thorin began to sing. A quiet, gentle bass that thrummed from low in his chest and filled the room with melancholic song of times and places long since past.

Thranduil was cradled in strong arms and surrounded by the warm tones of a dwarven voice, heavy with sleep, but beautiful and strong.

Soon, he slept, and Thorin regretfully made a mental note that next time, he'd also have to order decaf with his long list of specifications.


End file.
